


the prince’s flowers

by kaermorons, what_about_the_fish



Series: Joint Witcher Age Play Universe [2]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Daddy Eskel, Daddy Geralt, Daddy Kink, Daddy Vesemir, Little Jaskier, Little Lambert, M/M, Multi, love and affection, service Geralt, sexual age play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:14:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27975652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaermorons/pseuds/kaermorons, https://archiveofourown.org/users/what_about_the_fish/pseuds/what_about_the_fish
Summary: A slice of life for the daddies and littles of Kaer Morhen.
Relationships: Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Lambert/Vesemir, Everyone Fucks Everyone In Kaer Morhen
Series: Joint Witcher Age Play Universe [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2047451
Comments: 8
Kudos: 87





	the prince’s flowers

**Author's Note:**

> This is a direct continuation of the previous work in the series by anarchycox (AC-DD)! All works in this series are written as a joint effort between myself, anarchycox, and what_about_the_fish. Subscribe to the series to get notifications when we post new installments in this verse!
> 
> ALSO. This fic and series have elements of sexual ageplay. If you don’t like it, don’t read it, and sure as hell don’t comment on it unless you have something nice to say.

Kaer Morhen was not home to many comforts befitting a storied castle up in the mountains. It was at least four hundred years old, and the wild had been creeping in like the tide. Wolves roamed the forests, wargs and drowners kept to the shores around the lake and rivers, and in the winter, Witchers returned home. It had fewer amenities than the ever-growing list of downsides. But it was home. And it was warm.

Long ago, the architects of the keep had organized a kind of agreement with the Witchers staying in the castle. A watchtower here, an astronomy tower there, a barracks, a courtyard, a massive kitchen to feed the hundreds of Witchers and trainees living there throughout the year.

After the siege, the watchtower, and the astronomy tower, and the barracks were all gone. The kitchen hadn’t suffered too much damage, but the sudden absence of life in the keep meant that it gaped like an open wound, empty and cavernous in its disuse. What once had several Witchers bustling around it now only housed one for several months of the year, and five in the winters. One hearth was enough for their home.

At the end of the kitchen, in the warm corner near the prep station, there was a bath, built into the remains of what was once a great roasting hearth. The flue had been modified to let steam out, while preventing drafts from coming back in. It had been Eskel’s idea to carve several hundred  _ Igni _ runes into the thick barrier walls, and the Sign was cast upon the bath, the stones heated the water within to a perfectly comfortable temperature. It could still fit five sitting all at the perimeter, but the two smallest of the group liked sitting in the very middle, where it was warmest.

Eskel liked the bath. It was not only the product of his studious nature when learning about the Signs and other magic they could cast, but a reminder of family, of home. He ran his hands over the smooth stones, waiting for dough to rise in the warm room. The stones glowed a faint orange-red around the Signs carved into them, reacting to the magic in his bones. For a moment, he let Vesemir’s praise from the first night sink in, and he selfishly reveled in it.

Decisively, he filled the basin with water from the handpump in the kitchen, leaving it to settle into the stones and familiarize itself with the enchanted rocks. The dough was kneaded and rolled into buns and popped in the oven to bake, while he worked on frying up some bacon and eggs. Usually, Lambert liked to help with cooking, something about seeing his Egg with eggs dissolving him into cute giggles, but with his leg still on the mend, Eskel didn’t mind the solitude. He hoped a hot bath would soothe any aches the little ones had.

Once he heard footsteps coming down into the kitchen, he lit the bath and popped the buns out of the oven. Jaskier was still in a thick wool nightie, rubbing his eyes as he clung to Vesemir’s side. Those sleepy eyes widened in surprise as he got a closer look at the buns. “Egg, they’re bunnies!” he exclaimed.

Eskel smiled at him warmly, kissing the top of his head. “They’re bunny buns. I learned how this year. Don’t touch, they’ll hurt you right now.”

“They’re just bunnies, how can they hurt me?” Jaskier said, sassy first thing in the morning.

Vesemir intervened after that, hoisting him up onto the bench and getting him some milk, reminding him of his manners before handing the cup over. Eskel had visited the stables earlier that morning, converted from the damaged barracks the trainees used to sleep in. They kept life inside the walls, now, not in a barn hidden behind the keep.

Geralt came in with Lambert on his hip, holding him secure. Their baby wasn’t ready to walk around the keep freely just yet, but it just gave the adults some time to grasp him closer even more. Eskel selfishly let himself believe this, too, if just for a moment.

“Bunnies!” Lambert exclaimed, pointing from his perch.

“Egg said they hurt,” Jaskier said forlornly.

“They’d only hurt because they’re incredibly hot. Do you remember the pot you touched last winter?” Vesemir reminded him.

Jaskier held up the scar on the side of his hand. “I ‘member,” he proclaimed. He paused, and Eskel smirked.  _ Three, two, one…  _ “Ohhhhh,” he said in realization. Vesemir ruffled his hair before plating up all that Eskel had made, putting a kettle on for tea. Geralt kept his hands on Lambert to make sure he didn’t try to stand in this state.

They worked well together, even in the early, hardly-awake mornings of winter. “I heated up the bath,” Eskel said, once he’d passed out the cooled buns and tea.

“Will you take a bath with us, Egg?” Jaskier asked politely, his earlier sassiness chased away by the bunny buns.

“Pleeeeeease?” Lambert added on.

“I absolutely can,” Eskel smiled, finding it a little easier to do. The young ones needed smiles more than he gave on the Path, and they didn’t care that his tooth was cracked or that his face was sliced to look like tree bark. Their childhood wonder and innocence brought out a warmer, less accepted part of himself, and he was happier for it.

The littles cheered at the table, their artful debate skills having pleased the court. Breakfast was cleared away to be washed later, and the little ones were stripped out of their sleeping clothes and gently placed in the warm water. Lambert quietly winced as the warm water relaxed his tensed muscles, silently taking in the feeling. Jaskier, however, was much more vocal about his enjoyment of the kitchen bath, dunking his whole body in the tub. Eskel just shook his head, stripped, and joined them.

Lambert sat on his lap and let Eskel rub a soothing hand over his leg. It was healing up rather well, considering the horror story Vesemir had recounted to him and Geralt earlier. Quietly, he murmured a prayer into Lambert’s hair, one calling on the Old Gods to provide protection wherever he walked. It was one he would constantly say to himself while out on the Path, when the yearning and feeling of missing home had become too much.

Geralt joined them in the bath, scooping up Jaskier to tickle at his sides a bit before scrubbing him down with a mild soap. It wasn’t as fine as the ones Jaskier kept in his pack, but it smelled of alpine meadows and home, and plunged him just that bit further into his headspace.

When both of their little boys were clean, Vesemir brought over some warm clothes for the day, soft garments in wool and linen that featured Eskel’s steady-handed embroidery on the hems and sleeves. Lambert frowned a little getting into his boots, but accepted them once they were laced on. “We can go out and visit the animals, or we can have storytime in the library,” Vesemir said, still sipping his mug of tea. “Lambert? What would you like to do first?”

The boys liked to switch between who chose the day’s activities. That morning, Jaskier had whispered in Vesemir’s ear that he wanted Lambert to choose, since he had ouchies and needed to be happy. It had made Vesemir’s chest tighten to think of his little boy paying attention to those kinds of things, even in this state.

Lambert thought long and hard about his decision, his brow furrowing adorably under his soft, freshly-washed hair. “Animals. I don’t want them to be cold.”

“They won’t be cold, baby. I’m sure they’ll love to see you again.”

Vesemir led the two of them down into the stables while Eskel and Geralt cleaned up in the kitchen. The horses poked their heads out of their stalls, curious at their visitors. Vesemir pointed them out to the boys, helping them gently pet their noses and scratch behind their ears. Eskel had done a damn good job mucking and cleaning. He’d always been a ‘first to rise, last to bed’ kind of man. Vesemir loved him very much.

The boys were filled with wide-eyed wonder as Vesemir checked them over, brushing them down and helping feed them treats. “Jas, which animals should we visit next?”

Jaskier scuffed his feet on the floor. “Lambert picks,” he said. Vesemir put his heavy hands on Jaskier’s shoulders.

“Are you sad, pup?” Vesemir asked. “Maybe we can let Lambert choose which animals we see next, but I want you to choose too, sweet boy.” Vesemir watched Jaskier’s eyes fill with tears, and pulled him into a hug. He’d have to tell the others about Jaskier’s preoccupation with Lambert’s injury, even though it was practically all healed. “Baby?”

“Chimkens. I wanna say thank you for eggs!” Lambert made to go run off, but Vesemir snatched a hand out to stop him.

“You know you can’t go where I can’t see you, baby.”

“Sorry, Papa.” Lambert pouted and stood still until they could all three walk to the coop.

The chickens were all clucking busily when they got there, gossiping to one another about all the exciting chicken news at Kaer Morhen. Jaskier got to hold his favorite hen (who changed several times a winter) and talk to the animals, while Lambert did his best to follow the chickens around and say thank you for breakfast. It was a sweet sight, his gentle boys enjoying their time outside.

They moved through the rest of the animals until they had all been personally greeted by the little ones. Vesemir noticed the green banner in the kitchen window, noting that lunch was nearly ready.

“Let’s go get something to eat.”

Geralt and Eskel were quite flustered in the kitchen when the trio arrived, sex-haired and flushed. Vesemir shook his head and smirked. No one liked to heed the ‘no sex where we eat’ rule. Eskel looked rather pleased with himself, however, so Vesemir let it slide just to see that satisfied smile a bit longer.

“We have a lovely soup for lunch today, you must be chilly after being out in the cold for so long!” Geralt said, doling out bowls and trying to hide the slight limp in his step. Vesemir could clock the fading bruise on his neck from here.

Geralt’s own air of satisfaction was almost tangible. Getting their rocks off used to be the main goal of wintertime in Kaer Morhen, all of them fucking as much as Vesemir’s old hips could take it, but any of them could’ve simply used their hand for that. The connection, the servitude and knowing he’d done a good job, done good by his brothers, by his little boys, was something Geralt never got anywhere else. It soothed the jagged edges of his soul, the sharp pieces cut by decades of thinking an orgasm was the pinnacle of how you could show love. Until Eskel suggested it, he never knew he could provide for his family on his knees. He was surprised at how good he was at it, and the safe, loved feeling that followed.

Lunch went easy, mealtimes always did in Kaer Morhen. The small ones, now laden with food and bread, had droopy eyes and sleepy expressions. “Naptime,” Eskel mouths to Geralt. They carried the little ones up to the room, where Eskel would remain in the room below, keeping within earshot. He was surprised to find Geralt and Vesemir there already, looking concerned.

“Who died?” Eskel asked, voice softer now that their boys were asleep.

“Jaskier’s been sad,” Vesemir explained. “He’s worried about Lambert’s leg, and thinks giving up choices and playtimes will make it better.”

“That damned viscount,” Eskel growled. The reason Jaskier was here was because Jaskier had been so forthcoming about his terrible childhood. The target of blame for every bad happening in his family, Jaskier used to have screaming nightmares, terrible self-esteem, and a tightly-coiled tension about him that threatened to break him if he wasn’t cared for. They all thanked the gods for Geralt’s caring nature, helping him on the Path before they had this.

“What do we do?” Geralt asked, crossing his arms in concern.

“Well, has Lambert noticed?” Eskel says.

“Not as such, he’s observant but not very talkative, you know this,” Vesemir said, and the others nodded.

“Perhaps Lambert should be the one to tell Jaskier he’s okay. We have mobility exercises they can do together, make a game of it. If Jas can do all that Lamb can do, it might be easier for him to understand than just telling him he’s okay.”

“That could work. What exercises did you have in mind?”

—

After naptime, Jaskier wanted to read stories to Lambert, so they convened in front of the fireplace there. They sat in Vater and Wolf’s laps, and Vater helped to point out the words Jaskier had a hard time reading out loud. “We have a game we want to show you boys,” Eskel said softly.

Jaskier gasped. “A game?!”

“I wanna play!” Lambert exclaimed.

“Good! We need your help so we can play. So you two will lay on your backs, and put your legs straight up in the air. We’re gonna play Left-Foot-Right-Foot.”

“Leffuh Riffuh,” Lambert repeated, already rolling like a log onto his back. His legs piked up instantly, and Jaskier watched for a moment in tense silence before relaxing, though he was still wary. Eskel continued. 

“When I press down on your left foot, you press back and say ‘left foot!’ Try it.” Lambert caught onto the game quickly. Jaskier had a worried expression, constantly looking over at Lambert, but when he didn’t see Lambert being sad about his ouchie, he smiled and played the game too.

Lambert’s legs were a little tired after a while, though, and before he could say they “hurted,” Geralt scooped him up.

“Can I borrow this precious baby? I want to go for a walk.” Jaskier waved goodbye to his brother and snuggled up with Vater on the rug, worn out.

“You’re such a good boy for me, Jas,” Eskel murmured. 

Jaskier squirmed and made a happy noise, looking up at Vater. “Thank you,” he said sweetly.

“You know how important you are to us?” Eskel asked, stroking a hand through his hair. Jaskier shivered at the feeling, blinking quickly to concentrate a little bit better. “I don’t think you know, because I don’t think I can possibly tell you in one lifetime.”

“Vater…” Jaskier says breathlessly. “I love you,” he presses a kiss to Eskel’s scarred cheek.

“I love you too, my sweet boy. Would you like to play a game with me? Just the two of us.” Jaskier nodded quickly. He loved attention, and had been depriving himself of it unfairly so the last few days. “Go pick out a storybook for me to read you, and I’ll tell you the game.”

Jaskier returned with a fairytale book well-loved by the children of Kaer Morhen. It had several stories within it, so Eskel asked which one he wanted to hear. “The Prince’s Flowers!” Jaskier exclaimed. Eskel could have guessed; Jaskier loved that story and could probably recite it word for word even in this state.

“Alright, come sit here with Vater, there you go, perfect.” Jaskier sat between Eskel’s legs, and Eskel hooked his feet over Jaskier’s calves, keeping them open. He had a tin of slick to the side, warmed by the fire, which Jaskier hadn’t noticed. “Now, this game is going to be fun. If you’re not having fun, you just tell me, okay?”

“Okay!” Jaskier said. “What do we have to do for the game?”

“Well, first let’s get you ready.” Jaskier stifled a gasp as Eskel brought his hand over the laces on his trousers, loosening them a bit and pushing them down, along with his underthings. With how close they were to the fire, Eskel didn’t have to worry about Jaskier getting cold. The game would make certain of that. “Now, go ahead and put your hand around your cock, and every time you hear me say the word that starts with H, I want you to give a little pull on yourself. Not too hard, not too soft. You can’t come until you hear me say ‘the end’. If you’re good, I’ll give you a treat.”

Jaskier’s breath had gone a little faster, heat rising in his cheeks as he did as he was told. He was breathless with excitement. He wanted to be good, he wanted to impress Vater. “What kind of treat?”

“I think it’d be better as a surprise, so make sure you’re good for me, Jaskier. You think you can be good?”

“Yes! Yes, I can be good.” Jaskier kept a grip on his little cock, and Eskel flipped to the story.

_ “Once upon a time, there was a prince. He…” _ Eskel paused to make sure Jaskier was following the rules. Jaskier’s breath stuttered as he moved his fist up, and back down. Good.  _ “...liked to spend his days walking around the castle gardens, because he thought they were very beautiful. Every day, he would walk down the stairs of his tower and he would sneak into the gardens just to watch the sun rise. Little did he know…” _ Jaskier gave a soft noise, biting his lip. Eskel indulged in himself and pressed a kiss to Jaskier’s soft neck.  _ “There was someone else in the garden with him. _

_ “Every day as the sun rose, the prince was joined in the garden by a very handsome gardener. He had hair the color of wheat, and eyes the same color as the beautiful ivy climbing the prince’s tower. He was tall, and strong, and he had dirt on his hands even if he scrubbed them all night. The prince didn’t know he wasn’t alone in the garden, but the gardener knew about the prince’s morning routine.” _

Jaskier was panting a little, the feeling of Eskel’s lips against his skin combined with the deep rumble of his storytelling voice making it very hard to keep up with the game and not spill onto his hands.

_ “One day, the prince grew sick. The gardener had heard from the cook, who had heard from the head servant, that the prince was despondent in his room. He wouldn’t eat, he wouldn’t take a bath, and no one knew why. But...the gardener knew. He knew the prince liked to walk in the garden and he knew he liked to watch the sun go higher, and higher, and higher, and higher, and—” _

“Vater!” Jaskier squealed. “Those aren’t the words!” he complained. Eskel chuckled into his side and let his boy calm down a bit.

“You ready? Can I keep reading?”

“Yes, please,” Jaskier panted. Eskel kissed his head.

_ “So the gardener thought, and thought, and thought, and when he thought some more, he finally came up with the idea: if the prince can’t go to the garden, the garden must go to the prince! _

Eskel dragged his hand over Jaskier’s middle, his pinky barely brushing over the back of his knuckles as he held still, waiting for the next word. He grinned and continued.

_ “However, the prince had no idea about this idea. When he woke up the next day, before the sun could rise, he came...upon a lovely surprise: all over his room, there were flowers in bloom. Hydrangeas and hyacinths, heather and heliotrope, honeysuckle and hollyhock, the prince counted every petal and wondered how they got there. He felt much better than he’d felt in days, and was sure whoever brought the flowers was looking out for him. _

Jaskier was making a low keening noise in the back of his throat, the trembling in his body making his teeth rattle. He’d almost lost control over the flowers he’d listed, a secret departure from the words on the page.

_ “For three days, the prince would go to sleep, and when he awoke, there would be fresh flowers on his desk, on his windowsill. He had no clue where they’d come from, but he knew whoever left them must have loved him very much. Who else would know his favorite thing was looking at the flowers in the dawn light? _

_ “So one night he waited, and he waited, and he—” _ Eskel paused as his boy shook in his arms, holding himself together by fraying threads. He watched Jaskier pull himself back into composure again, and continued once his hand relaxed.  _ “When the moon was up in the sky, and the night was dark with excitement. He heard a curious sound on the window, someone tapping at it, tap tap tap. The prince hid behind a curtain, more curious than afraid. Slowly, the window opened, and… _

_ “In crawled the gardener! He had climbed up the ivy on the tower wall with hands that held dirt that wouldn’t come off even if he scrubbed all night, flowers in his mouth, just to set them inside for the prince to look at every morning. The prince waited until the handsome man stopped, fully inside of his chambers. ‘Hello,’ said the prince. ‘Are those flowers for me?’ _

_ “The gardener jumped out of his skin. ‘Oh!’ he cried. ‘I’ve been caught!’ The gardener almost threw himself out of the window, he was so embarrassed, but the prince just laughed. _

_ “‘Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha,’ the prince said—” _ Jaskier gave a sob, his poor little cock leaking all over the place while his fist around the base tried to keep his orgasm at bay. His desperation, his desire for control, to be  _ good, _ won out, eventually.

_ “‘Don’t go! I cannot go another morning not knowing who has given me so many beautiful gifts.’ The gardener stopped, and hung his head. _

_ “‘I am just a lowly gardener, your highness, I have watched you in the garden, we share a love of things that grow, and things we harvest out of love. I have great affection for you, my prince, but you have never seen me. I have wanted to give you my heart for so long, it hasn’t felt like I can control the beating in my chest when I see you.’ _

_ “The prince was stunned. It was true! The person giving him flowers did love him, like he’d thought! The prince hugged the gardener, not caring about the grass stains, or the dirt on his hands that wouldn’t come off even if he scrubbed all night, and he looked into those big green eyes, and he fell in love right then and there. The prince kissed the gardener, and they kissed all night. _

_ “In the morning, the prince was cured of his illness! The prince took the gardener by the hand, the dirty hand that wouldn’t get clean even if he scrubbed all night, and he went to his mothers, the Queens of the castle. He explained the passion he felt for the gardener, and when they kissed before the whole court, no one could deny that the two possessed the truest love in the land. They married, and lived happily, happily, happily…” _

“Vater!”

_ “...ever after. The end. _ Come for me, Jaskier.”

Jaskier’s body seized up, and he came with a squeal as he shot across his fist, shuddering and collapsing back into Eskel’s chest, breathing hard. Eskel set the book aside and gathered his boy up in his arms, not minding the mess he’d made. The little boy was floating and happy, blinking rapidly though his eyes weren’t focused. He made a soft noise, and turned in Eskel’s arms to kiss him, messy and uncoordinated. “You were so good for me, Jas. I’m so proud of you.” Eskel kissed all over Jaskier’s face before taking his trousers and braies all the way off. “I think it’s time for your treat.”

“Y-yes please,” Jaskier whimpered, moving bonelessly onto his knees and chest when Eskel maneuvered him.

Eskel spread his little cheeks and blew across his boy’s cute little hole. Jaskier keened, oversensitive. Lucky for Eskel, Jaskier loved being fucked into oblivion, well past the point of coherence. He dove in all at once, kissing and sucking at the boy’s ass. Jaskier was too wrung-out to try wriggling away, forced to take the pleasure Eskel gave him. Eskel worked a finger into his boy, moving away to use some more slick, nearly all liquid from its place in front of the fire. Jaskier cried out hoarsely, chewing on his lip.

“Such a good, hungry boy for me, aren’t you?” Eskel teased, knowing the word would drive Jaskier crazy, still in the mindset of the game. “Gonna fuck your little hole so good, how do you like that, Jas?”

“Ye-es!” Jaskier cried.

Eskel worked one, two, three fingers into his boy, watching him squirm on his hand, his mind going wild with sensation and pleasure. He was a beautiful sight, so pure and lovely. Eskel slicked up his cock and pressed into his pretty boy, drinking in every twitch, every tiny noise he made, like he’d never get to hear it again. He latched his mouth onto Jaskier’s shoulder, fucking into him hard and fast, just how his baby boy liked it.

Jaskier made little  _ “uh, uh, uh,” _ noises in the back of his throat. Were they face to face, Eskel would have seen his eyes rolling back into his head, a man possessed by pleasure. Eskel used his body how he wanted, pulling him back and forth on his cock as he saw fit. Jaskier loves to be ragdolled around like this, reminded of his puny human strength among his Witchers, among his daddies.

The poor thing comes again, untouched, when Eskel sinks his teeth into the back of Jaskier’s neck, a dominance mark over the younger man as much as a sexual urge. He gives a strangled yell, a half-garbled “Vater!” falling out of his lips before he collapsed to the rug, unconscious.

Eskel kept going, pounding his boy until he spilled with a loud groan, filling him up nice and heavy with his come. He pulled out to keep Jaskier comfortable, and curled up with him by the fire, indulging in the scent of them. His thoughts drifted slowly across the front of his mind.

Jaskier would need another bath, he knew. Good thing Eskel knew the best place for one.


End file.
